By Claire Booth
Where I live, summer is measured
by two things: the number of days that are 100 degrees or hotter, and the
quality of your tomato crop.
This year, we’ve had 23 triple-digit
days so far. We complain, but that’s about average for a California Central
Valley summer. I don’t mind too much, because it’s the perfect weather to hole
up indoors and write.
The other summer obsession has
the opposite effect, however. Tomatoes make you go outdoors. They also make you
crazy – at least this year.
The tomatoes in the above photo? Not
this year’s. These were big and fat. Heck, last year, I got heirloom tomatoes
so big, one slice would do you for a whole sandwich. This year, doing the exact
same thing, I have produced this:
Not a sandwich-worthy one among
them.
But I’m not the only one. In talking
about tomatoes – which a ton of people do, starting about mid-summer – I’ve
found that other people also have experienced late blooms, cracked fruit, and
various other calamities. The newspaper even did a story on it.
This made me feel much better. Knowing
there are others in the same gardening boat really helped. And the same holds
true for everything else in life, really. Finding someone who knows what you’re
going through – whether it’s a health scare, car trouble, a tricky writing plot
problem, or anything else – makes it more bearable. So here’s hoping you have a
support group, and a tomato big enough to make a BLT.
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